Through The Door
Honey, the look of it was as sweet as the sound
Your head tilt back, your funny mouth to the clouds
I couldn't hope to know that song
And all its words wouldn't claim to feel the same
We felt as the first time it was heard
I couldn't name that feeling carried in that voice
-To Noise Making (Sing) by Hozier
Dinner was an uneventful affair, apart from Gregory and Hyacinth peppering Theo with questions. He held up remarkably well, patiently answering each one with an easy smile.
She mentally made a note of how many he answered correctly, a habit she probably picked up from listening to him answer questions in class.
“Where do you live?”, Hyacinth asked
“Near Old Heatherville” (True. Verified.)
“What happened to your face”, Gregory asked
“I ran my bike into something and fell” (False. Yet to be verified)
“How do you know Eloise”, he asked
“We are classmates” (Irrevocably true.)
“Are you her boyfriend?” Hyacinth asked with a gleam in her eye.
“No”, Theo and Eloise answered in unison.
“Hyacinth”, Anthony said with a slight reproach in his voice, “eat your potatoes.”
Benedict smirked into his soup and Eloise shoved a spoon into her mouth to avoid talking.
She knew Theo was lying about the accident. She knew she shouldn’t push, that some secrets are meant to be kept locked in vaults.
She watched him wince when the spoon pressed against the wound on his mouth. The crinkle in this face stirred a bloom of warmth in her, like a snarling crest of a wave. A part of her wanted to drive a fist into the face of whoever caused the skin under his eye to blacken like an inkstained corner of parchment.
She drained the last of her soup, licking the remnants off her upper lip.
“I’ve got to finish a letter”, she said, getting up, “It’s Pen’s birthday tomorrow.”
A chorus of ‘Good nights’ followed her as she left. She finished writing Pen’s letter ages ago and already sent it along with the presents. She spent hours learning how to craft friendship bracelets from Hyacinth and digging through every bookstore for the prettiest copy of Wuthering Heights she could find.
She just didn’t think she could sit at that table anymore, not when the only thought that occurred to her when she saw his mouth was the way it said her name.
Not Bridgerton, with an icy bite in his voice that had frustration laced in every syllable like poison. Not Dear Menace or To whichever personality of yours this concerns
Eloise
Soft, pleading, final. He didn’t want her to get involved.
Men, she thought furiously as she changed into a silk nightgown.
She took a swing of water, as if it would wash away her thoughts. Why did she care anyway?
It really was none of her business, she concluded. She could easily smudge away her concern, like the memory of how his ridiculous face felt under her fingertips.
As Eloise settled in her usual cushy chair in the library, she reassured herself with the thought that the less she gets involved, the better the situation will be.
She was pages deep into The Secret History, but couldn't bring herself to focus. Her eyes kept going back to the crumpled letters.
"Sharpe, it was me."
"I'm sorry."
“I jumped in first.”
“I’m sorry.”
The hours were punctuated by a small sound, echoing through the room. It was a distant rip in the silence.
It must be the wind, she thought to herself, perhaps even a creaking door.
“Gah!”, a sound ripped through the library.
She swung her feet off the chair, nearly tripping over her nightgown.
The door was open. She poked her head out and realized the sound was emerging from the room right across: the guest room which Theo was in. His door was open too
“Theo”, she said tentatively knocking on the door.
He was tossing and turning in his bed and under the pale moonlight she could see his skin was slick with sweat. His face was twisted into a look of pain as it squished into a pillow, which muffled the sound of agony he let out. She shut the door behind her.
What the hell was she supposed to do? Splash water? Should she wake him ?
She switched on the lamp on the bedside table. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him awake.
“Hey, you’re okay”
Theo suddenly stopped. He was breathing sharply with his eyes squeezed shut. Eloise tried rubbing circles.
“You’re safe.”, she whispered, “come on, open your eyes. It’s me, just me.”
His eyes snapped open, and he reminded her of a baby deer with his brown eyes round and wide.
The familiar scowl on his face sent a jolt of relief through her. He sat up abruptly, gasping for air, as if every laboured breath was painful.
“Bridgerton”, he let out, his voice raspy, “what are you doing here?”
“I heard you”, Eloise kept her voice low, “I wanted to check—”
He suddenly gripped her arm, “They’re here. They were here seconds ago.”
“Who?”, she said urgently, as his fingers slid down to her elbow.
He stilled, not uttering a sound. He rubbed the fabric of her sleeve in between his fingers, as if the smoothness of the silk relaxed him.
“Sharpe”, his last name felt odd in her mouth, like realizing an old sock she wore everyday no longer fit her.
“Where did they go?”, he whispered. He pawed at the front of his shirt (or rather, Colin’s old sweatshirt) as if expecting to find blood.
“It was a nightmare”, Eloise said, keeping her voice gentle, handing him the water bottle from the bedside table.
He unscrewed it with shaky hands, slopping water over himself as he drank deeply. His eyes were still wide open when he finished, as if surprised by how thirsty he was. Or perhaps, Eloise thought with an involuntary shudder, he was afraid to close his eyes again.
A beam of light illuminated the beads of water settled on his upper lip like dewdrops on a leaf. He leaned towards her to keep the bottle back on the table and she noticed how large the sweatshirt was for him, almost sliding off his shoulder.
“A shower helps.”, Eloise said awkwardly, suddenly aware of how close they were sitting together.
He shook his head, “I won’t be able to fall back asleep. I don’t even think I want to.”
“You need your rest.”
“Dreaming people are coming to beat you senseless and thinking it’s real doesn’t feel like rest.”
Eloise’s heart clenched.
“What?”, she said loudly. Theo winced and looked away, shaking his head with his tongue pinched between his teeth
“Forget I said anything—”
“Forget?”, Eloise hissed, her heart thudding almost painfully, “Is that what happened? Were you attacked?”
A hundred questions raced through her mind like a train. Theo opened his mouth but Eloise didn’t stop.
“How many people attacked you?”, feeling panic crawl up her throat, “Do you remember who? Where were you?”
“Look”, Theo rubbed his temples, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Did anyone see? Did you report it?””
I am not involving you in this.”
Red, hot anger flamed through Eloise, like her nerves were catapulted to every tip of her mind.
“You insolent, little--”
“Bridgerton”, Theo said, his face was so close to hers, Eloise felt a flare in the pit of her stomach, “drop it.”
He narrowed his eyes at the door, holding up his hand when Eloise tried talking again.
“You can’t—“, Eloise started, but Theo placed a finger to her mouth. Her heart stuttered. Every atom in her stood on end, focused on the feel of his skin pressed against her lips. It wasn’t butterflies, or a spark. It didn’t even touch her, but the mere proximity sent heated anger burning right through the surface, like a swimmer gasping for air.
She was about to bare her teeth to bite his finger when he cupped his other hand around his ear.
Listen, he mouthed.
She heard footsteps, growing louder like a battering drum until coming to a still outside the door. She exchanged a glance with Theo who removed his finger. Eloise nodded towards the bathroom. He frowned, confused.
She leapt off the bed and grabbed him by the elbow, dragging him inside the bathroom, switching on the light in a hurry. Just as she locked the bathroom door, she heard a creaking sound, and someone stepped inside the bedroom. Eloise shuffled her feet from the door but pressed her ear against it, listening to the thuds of the person’s shoes against the floor. Theo was trembling next to her.
“Relax”, she whispered, “no danger. It’s probably just one of the maids checking in on you.”
A sudden rapping sound made them jump.
“Mr. Sharpe?”, the door doing nothing to muffle Anthony’s voice, “Are you in there, Mr. Sharpe?”
Resolve trickled out of Eloise’s body as a sudden panic seized her. She turned to Theo, who for some reason was starting to smile.
“What are you smiling about?”, she whispered furiously.
His stupid grin was the last thing she wanted to see when they were one careless move away from coming face to face with bloody Anthony of all people. At the same time, relief unspooled in her when she watched Theo’s shoulders shake from laughter. She couldn’t understand what could ever be amusing about the horrifying prospect of facing her oldest brother, but the sight of it had a calming effect. The panic had dulled and she could feel her chest lighten.
Anthony knocked again, louder.
“Say something”, she mouthed, “How would you usually respond?”
Theo cleared his throat, his eyes still twinkling. He leaned closer to the door and said out loud, “Do you usually interrogate all your guests when they’re answering the urgent calls of nature, Mr Bridgerton, or is this special treatment reserved for the ones who look like they might nick something from your house while you’re busy ensuring your rose bushes are trimmed?”
Eloise held back a snort with great effort. She exchanged a glance with him. He stifled a laugh with his hand. The bruises on knuckles were like purple watercolours under the dim blue haze of the light. She watched the corners of his eyes crinkling as a smile crept across his face.
She couldn’t look at him without a bubble of laughter struggling to come lose in her own chest. However, she couldn’t wrench her gaze away from him either.
“Just the ones who arrive at my doorstep at the brink of collapse” Anthony said, “Although I’d have to say I wouldn’t be sorry to see Grandmother Mary’s hideous vase from my study go.”
Anthony’s response seized Eloise by surprise. If Anthony could have such a good sense of humour, maybe Theo’s presence at her house was good for something apart from spiking her blood pressure.
Theo mimed banging his head against the wall with a grimace, but his response was smooth, as if jumping readily to his lips
“As flattered as I am to be offered such an opportunity, I’d feel more honoured discussing a heist when I am not plotting with you through a door without my pants on.”
Anthony coughed, “Right. Forgive me. I am a light sleeper. I heard noises and wanted to check if you were alright.”
“Thank you”, Theo said with a barely concealed sigh of relief. They waited for Anthony’s footsteps to recede before they heard his voice again. Eloise’s chest was tight and heavy with tension again, as if her heart was pinned to her ribs by a flimsy tendon ready to drop.
“Also I can’t find Eloise.”, Anthony said, “I was wondering—”
“Sir”, Theo said with a firmness Eloise would have found comical in different circumstances, “I am quite sure she is more likely to enjoy this conversation than she is to be here in this bathroom with me.”
Eloise suppressed a groan. She chose to focus on the floral pattern on the shower curtains instead, as if the vines could slither out and strangle her out of her misery.
“Good night, Mr. Sharpe. Let’s pretend this conversation never happened.”
“Glad to, Mr Bridgerton. Tell me your other two wishes tomorrow. All you have to do is rub the door.”
All the knots in Eloise’s back seemed to melt away when she heard Anthony leave. Theo had a wicked grin again and just as she looked at him again, he burst into ten years’ worth of bottled laughter.
“God, Bridgerton, the look on your face”
He let out a sigh, his cheeks tinged pink.
“What about it?”, she asked indignantly. His piercing gaze made her feel exposed, like he knew something she didn’t just to get under her skin.
He shook his head, “ I haven’t seen you this scared of anyone before.”
Eloise felt no shred of embarrassment, and was more angry at the idea that Theo thought this was supposed to evoke shame.
“When you’ve had a couple hundred lectures from Anthony Bridgerton for sneaking to the kitchen in the middle of the night and accidentally breaking your grandmother’s vintage plates, trust me, the last thing you’d want is for him to catch you in a bathroom with someone.”
Theo leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and the familiarity of the action unsettled her. It was infuriatingly comforting, like hearing a song you knew the tune of but didn’t know the name of.
“My, my, Bridgerton, is this not your first time hiding in a bathroom with a boy?”
Eloise felt her cheeks heat up, “Based on how amusing you find this, I would say this probably is your first time being this close to a girl without being punched.”
Theo scoffed, and Eloise was irresistibly reminded of the face he wore when he was going to deliver a particularly cutting counterargument “I am afraid this sort of expertise I just demonstrated should only prove that I am in fact,--”
Eloise was gripped with the realization that she didn’t want to know.
“We can leave, you know?”, she blurted, watching his eyes suddenly widen.
“Right”, he mumbled as she unlocked the door, “Didn’t realize.”
She turned to face him when they exited. A foreign weight pressed against them: a silence that hung in the air, which could break itself like a heart. She wondered if she should drop it, shatter it.
His arms swung loosely his sides, his shoulder smooth and pale in the light from the window. A curtain blew in the lush, balmy air and ruffled his hair like a wind against a pile of leaves.
Eloise was strangely transfixed, watching a shiver pass through Theo at the contact with the curtain as its edges made an arc around him. His eyes fluttered shut, a swallow travelling down his throat. Eloise looked away, her eyelids feeling heavy. Drowsiness did odd things to her speaking ability.
“Thank you”
She opened her eyes. He stood there, the night hanging in tatters behind him. He looked like he would be swept into the wind any moment.
“Thank you” he repeated with a nod, “for…” he gestured vaguely.
“Showers help”, was all Eloise could say, “if you can’t sleep, try to read something. You can sleep in tomorrow.”
“I didn’t bring a book”, he said.
Eloise smiled. The next words felt natural.
“Good thing there is a library across your room.”
“You have a library?”, he asked
“How else do you think I heard you?”
Just as Theo eagerly stepped forward, he swayed alarmingly. Eloise gripped his shoulder as he slumped, blinking his way to consciousness.
“Maybe tomorrow”, she said sharply, guiding him back to the bed, ignoring the disappointment in her.
He hummed in response, sprawling in between the sheets.
She pulled her arm out from behind his back and slid off the mattress, when his fingers gripped her wrist.
“Bridgerton, stay.”
Her heart clenched like a fist.
“Sharpe”, she said, fighting to keep her voice steady, “you need sleep.”
“If I am alone, I don’t think I can fall asleep”, he croaked.
Eloise hesitated. She was likely to turn into a fish and sleep on a sea bed than step foot in the same bed as Theo Sharpe.
“I don’t think that is a good idea”, she whispered. She couldn’t look at his face.
He looked like a cornered animal, one cornered by his own mind. What are nightmares but cages you’re convinced are real?
He opened one eye, “Just until I fall asleep. I will be too afraid to close my eyes otherwise.”
Considering how exhausted he looked, it wouldn’t take long for him to sleep. He needed it.
How could she leave him alone, but how could she stay?
She settled besides him, her back against the headboard. She just spent a good ten minutes locked with him in the bathroom while he conversed with her brother. Sitting next to him until he fell asleep was absolutely nothing.
He let go of her hand and his head lolled on to his pillow. His breathing seemed to have eased. He kept his eyes open, but not widely so. He felt safe.
Eloise wished time travel was real, just so she could see the look on her past self’s face if she found out.
Her hand itched for the book she left in the library, and settled on looking at the clock tick on the wall, occasionally glancing at the finger like shadows rippling across it from the furniture, anything but the way Theo looked peaceful- another rare sight.